


Terrible Top Gear

by halfeatenmoon



Category: Horrible Histories, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Amphibious Cars, Christmas, Crossover, Fic Exchange, Gen, RPF, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfeatenmoon/pseuds/halfeatenmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight on Top Gear: Jeremy Clarkson, James May and Richard Hammond suggest some Christmas gift ideas from their travels in history, Charles II is the star in the reasonably priced car, and we see whether Vikings are any better than Top Gear at building amphibious vehicles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible Top Gear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dracothelizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/gifts).



> I had several ideas for Top Gear/Horrible Histories crossover sketches, and I couldn't pick one, so I strung them all together under the pretense that I was writing a Top Gear episode. I'm sure there are historical inaccuracies all over the place, but hopefully you'll enjoy it enough that you'll forgive them.

"Tonight on Top Gear, fuel prices have risen so high that we've resorted to selling Richard Hammond's sexual services in order to feed the Stig..."

"Clarkson!"

"Oh alright," Jeremy grumbled, glaring at Richard across the studio. "That's not really true. We tried to pimp him out but for some unfathomable reason people only want James. So!" He clapped his hands together. "It's the end of the year, so naturally we've completely run out of money. That's why this week, Top Gear is travelling back in time to when one pound could buy you a herd of sheep and a couple of turnips with the change. Sorry, what was that?"

He leaned peered into the dimly-lit audience. "Who said that? Time travel's impossible? Don't be ridiculous, we’re on the BBC."

 

"Frankly, we almost didn't have a star to test out the Reasonably Priced Car this week," said Jeremy, sounding rather folorn. "But luckily enough, Top Gear are a bunch of very intelligent people. And working at the BBC studios, we have access to _more than one TARDIS_ if we do a lot of sneaking around and bribe David Tennant with the promise that he can have another go at beating Billie Piper. So this week, we travelled back in time to an era when the economy wasn't quite so shit, we could book a guest for two pounds fifty, and people knew how to have fun. Ladies and gentlemen, our _monarch_ in a reasonably priced car, Charles the Second!"

The audience seemed mildly enthusiastic and rather baffled, though a few remembered enough of their school history lessons to muster up a "Restoration, yeah!" Charles just smiled happily as he strutted up to the stage and leaned back in the chair like he'd always owned it.

"So, your Majesty... is that right?" Jeremy frowned at him. "Or is it your Highness? Actually, can I just call you Charles?"

"May as well!" said Charles, beaming. "I'm not the king any more, am I? I suppose I _am_ , or I will be when you take me back to when I _was_ king, but _at this present moment_ I expect I _am_ just Charles."

Jeremy stared at him for a moment. "Right. Well, Charles, before we get down to the questions I usually pose to our guests, there's one thing I've just been dying to ask you." He pointed to James May. "How does it make you feel to know that centuries after the end of your reign, _that man_ is copying your hair?"

"Marvellous," said Charles. "Everyone should do it. I'm sure he's a lovely chap, isn't he?"

"Well yes, but he does build motorcycles in his bathtub and think washers are fun."

"I haven't the faintest idea what that means. Is this part of the game?"

"No, sorry, we'll move on," said Jeremy, ignoring the way James was calling him a pillock. "Now, normally I would ask our guests about their car histories, what they've driven in the past, how they felt about their first car, but having lived most of your life before they were invented, you haven't got any car history."

"None at all! Though I did have a look through some of the literature that you fellows have around the place," he said, and held out a magazine. "And I quite like the look of this one. The, er... Holden Commodore, is it?"

"A _ute_?" Jeremy gaped. "You're a British monarch, you can't drive a ute! They're for bloody farmers! And wankers!"

"Obviously _I_ wouldn't drive it," said Charles. "I'd have Sotherby do it."

"I can't drive!" Sotherby protested, from the audience.

"Somebody has to," Charles sniffed. "I'll be having a party in the back."

"That's what limousines are for," said Jeremy, "But more importantly if you're going to get a ute, you should at least get a Toyota. How can you call yourself a British monarch and want to drive a Holden? They're from Australia, it's full of criminals!"

"Is it really?" Charles asked, delightedly. "I love criminals! Have you heard about the chap who tried to steal my crown jewels? Marvellous fellow."

"He stole your crown jewels? Really?" Jeremy sat forward eagerly on the edge of his seat. "So did you have him beheaded?"

"Oh no, let him go." Charles waved a hand impatiently. "Far too entertaining to have killed."

Jeremy was aghast. "You have the freedom to have people murdered whenever you feel like it and you let them go? What sort of monarch are you?"

Sotherby almost leapt onto the stage. "Don't speak to the king like that or _you'll_ be beheaded next!"

"Oh, calm down, Sotherby," said Charles. "It's a perfectly reasonable question, you asked me the same thing yourself!"

"Exactly!" Jeremy agreed. "I think we can both agree, Sothers, that capital punishment made this nation great and it's a waste not to execute traitors. Like jewel theives, and whoever came up with those bendy buses with the rubber bands in the middle."

"You do have a point, but I'd much rather let people live when they entertain me," said Charles. "After all, if you weren't so amusing I could have _you_ executed, too!"

He laughed, and Jeremy only looked a little afraid when he joined in.

"So, shall we talk about your lap?"

"Oh, if we must." Charles grinned. "Dreadful, wasn't it? Though I wouldn't have had any idea _how_ badly I was going until that lovely Stig of yours came in and took over."

"We agreed not to mention that, Charles, as it is technically cheating. But I suppose we may as well have a look at it. There we go, starting line, turns, blah blah blah, across the line very fast. There's not even any point in building up the suspense, everyone knows you've got the fastest time on the board."

He scribbled 'Charles II' on a magnetic strip and slapped it at the top of the lap times board.

"It's been a pleasure to have you on the show, though, Charles," Jeremy said, and leaned over to shake his hand.

"Likewise," Charles agreed. "Nice to see that getting rid of the Puritans wasn't all for nothing. I must say, I quite like the way England turned out in the end. Now, shouldn't we be having a party? Where's the champagne?"

 

“And now the news,” said Richard, taking his place on the couch. “Fortunately, that’s something we can always do cheaply.”

“Though we did lash out and get a Christmas tree that was actually green this year,” Jeremy said, as he joined them.

"Good news!" said James, immediately.

"Oh come on," Richard said, looking pained. "I thought you'd given up on the Dacia Sandero."

"I had, but I was wrong," said James, proudly. "Thanks to our recent adventures in history I also had the opportunity to travel _forward_ in time and learned that the Dacia Sandero is going to be available in Britain as soon as the year two thousand and twenty six!"

" _Only_ that long!" Richard exclaimed. "Great, we have another twenty four years of listening to you talk about it."

"James," said Jeremy, thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair, "How much is it going to cost?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just tell me, in two thousand and twenty six, how much is a Dacia Sandero going to cost?"

James mumbled something.

"What was that, May?"

"About a million quid."

"And how are you going to afford that, then?"

"Well it shouldn't be _too_ hard," said James, miffed. "If cars cost more then I'll be getting paid more, won't I?"

"Is that why you didn't buy one in the future and bring it back?" Richard asked, and practically jumped out of his seat when James didn't reply. "It is! You tried to buy a car from the future and you couldn't afford it!"

"Look, can we move on?" James demanded. "Isn't it time for the presents?"

"Of course!" Jeremy said. "As we always do this time of year, we've got some gift ideas for the car lover in your life. Except they don't have anything to do with cars because as we've established before, nobody can afford them any more."

"And all car-related gifts are crap unless they're actually cars," Richard added.

"Yes, so this year, we're looking at excellent gifts you can get for really cheap by just going back in time to when nobody had any money."

"First of all," said Jeremy, pulling a scruffy looking man onto the stage next to him, "Is this fantastic witch-finder I picked up in the Middle Ages."

"Jeremy, why would anyone want a witch-finder?"

"Well, to find out who cursed their Ford GT so that it never behaves itself so you can have them burned to death."

Richard and James exchanged a look. "We thought you were over that car."

"No, I've realised it would just work for me if I found out who cursed it!" said Jeremy, eagerly. "Look, witch-finder, someone's cursed my car so it never starts right, or it stops while I'm in the middle of something, and you have to find out who it is."

"What's a car?" the witch-finder asked, blankly.

"Fine, a horse then. My horse won't start."

"Are you sure that's a curse?" The witch-finder asked, blankly. "Could just be a badly-trained horse. Or a bad rider."

"Shut up," Jeremy hissed at the other two. "It's not badly trained, you don't train these ones, they're supposed to just go. Anyway I paid for your services and you're supposed to find me a witch, so hurry up and earn your pay."

The witch-finder shrugged, pointed to James and said "That one."

"I am not!" said James, indignantly, at the same time as Jeremy said "Really? Why?"

"You can't question my mystical witch-finding methods," he said, simply. "But do you own a cat?”

“Yes?”

“See, he’s a witch.”

"That has nothing to do with being a witch!"

"They always deny it," the witch-finder shrugged. "Do you want me to arrange for his burning or will you do it yourself?"

"Oh, don't you worry, witch-finder," Jeremy smirked. "I'll burn him very thoroughly."

"Suit yourself," the witch-finder said, and ambled offstage again, mumbling "They ruin all my fun.”

"What a load of bollocks that was," James said, loudly.

"Well, you would say that, wouldn't you, witch?"

" _Anyway_ ," said James, glaring, "We all know someone who you ask what they want for Christmas and they just say 'Oh, get me a bottle of something' and you have to try to find something that's good enough for their ridiculously snobbish taste that doesn't cost your entire savings..."

"I don't know anyone like that," Richard interrupted.

"Neither do I," said Jeremy. "Are you sure it's not just you and your wife who have that problem?"

"What? You know I’m not married."

"No, but I'm sure Oz would say 'yes' if you just asked."

James just glared. " _As I was saying_ you can solve all these problems by getting some authentic, historical English ale!" He held up a large, opaque brown bottle. "It's disgusting, of course, but people will easily overlook that when you tell them it's _authentic_."

"Excellent idea," Richard agreed. "On the other hand, if you're looking for a gift for someone who likes fixing things up, you should venture down to Egypt and get them some Egyptian Mummy!"

This was met with a puzzled silence.

"Well, yes, I know Egypt is a bit far to go," Richard amended, "And mummy limbs are a _little_ bit pricier than really old-fashioned English ale, but look!" He held up a severed leg, delightedly. "Great value when you see how much of it there is?"

"Richard, why would anyone want a severed mummy limb? Do you regularly decorate your interior with severed limbs?" Jeremy asked. "Or do you have a collection."

"No, you _grind it up_ stupid. Then you can use it to fill in cracks in the walls - I know you like your home improvements, James - or just slather it on sick people, it has magical healing powers and everything..."

"I can see how it would be useful for someone who likes to plough fields upside down in a racing car," said Jeremy, dryly.

"And it's a great fuel for your fireplace this Christmas," Richard finished. "Really, they're so useful for practically everything that _everyone_ should have some mummy limbs around the house. And they come pre-wrapped!"

"Well, I've saved my _favourite_ gift until last," said Jeremy, rubbing his hands together. He gestured to someone in the audience behind him and a small, skinny, soot-covered child clambered up next to him."

"Yes, just stand here... no, please don't touch anything... yes, right there. Look, everyone! It's a Victorian child!"

James and Richard both stared. "Did you _steal_ a child from the Victorian perion?"

"I didn't steal him, I bought him!" said Jeremy, happily. "They're really brilliant, they clean your chimneys right out, get into all the small places, and I got this fantastic deal so that if he breaks I can get a new one for free! I can't imagine why we stopped using child labour, it was brilliant."

"Something about cruelty, I think, Jeremy," said Richard, with a grimace. "Do you think it's about time to move onto the film where we nearly got killed by Vikings a lot?"

 

The Viking Amphibious Car Challenge did not start well.

"Are they _singing_?" Jeremy asked, as they watched the little wooden boat approaching the sure. "They're singing. Nobody told me that Vikings _sing_."

"Not really what you expect from Vikings, is it?" said James, mildly. "Wouldn't have thought there was any art along with the burning and pillaging."

"I think it's brilliant," said Richard. "They're creative _and_ they're game to build a boat out of a car even though they don't know what a car is. I assume they don't, anyway. What more can you want?"

It wasn't until they were almost ashore that anyone took any notice of _what_ the Vikings were singing, and once they hit the shore they had to run away for a bit, no matter how much Richard liked the sound of the words " _We're gonna set the town alight - Literally!_ "

 

"Sorry about that," said the largest Viking, when they'd stopped running and the Vikings agreed not to kill hem. "We got a bit carried away there. We just haven't been to England in such an awfully long time."

"I haven't killed a monk in _months_ ," sighed one of the others. "I don't suppose there are any monasteries around here?"

"No, we don't have an awful lot of monks about anymore," said James. "It's a pity, too, they made excellent wine."

"And they never fought back, either." He sighed again. "Drat. That'll teach us for being so good at killing them."

"Er... yes, that's a shame," said Jeremy, trying to ignore the way James was staring. "Now, we'd better get started, we've explained the whole concept of _cars_ before, haven't we, chaps?"

"Oh yes, your slaves gave us one to practice on back home," said one of them, brightly. "It made chasing the polar bears much more fun."

"Just imagine what we could do with it if we could use it to chase _monks_ ," another agreed.

"But it stopped working when it caught on fire," said a third, looking forlorn.

"Ah... yes, they'll do that," said Jeremy. He was acutely aware of the way James was getting more and more anxious - and more disturbingly, the way Richard was starting to look more intrigued. "Now, onto our challenge for today. The first part of the challenge is to go and pick out a car - any car you like. We have a huge collection of cheap and working cars here -" he gestured to a nearby field of used cars, "So you can pick out any one you like. Then you have to build a boat around it so that it can drive and... you know, go on water. All understood?"

"Understood!" said the largest Viking, and trapped Jeremy in an alarmingly firm handshake. "We shall return with a car to bring us victory!"

The four of them charged off towards the car yard, still carrying their axes.

James stared after them with a blank expression and finally said "They're going to kill us."

"No, don't be silly, this is going to be fun!" said Jeremy, all bluster. "We're going to have a race and someone will win, and then we'll all go home."

"Yeah, it'll be fine!" Richard agreed, and unlike Jeremy, he seemed to believe it.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Vikings, cars, boats, it has to be fun," Richard grinned. "And even if they do try to attack us, we'll be fine. I brought Top Gear Dog, she'll protect us."

They all turned to watch Top Gear Dog loping absentmindedly down the beach.

"Right," said Jeremy, rubbing his hands together, "If we're all going to be murdered to death by Vikings, how about we pick a car to run away in?"

 

Half an hour later, the three of them were still standing on the beach arguing.

"The only amphibious car that has _ever_ worked is mine,” Jeremy insisted. “There is absolutely no reason to try anything else.”

"Now look, Clarkson, you can say that all you like, but you rolled it over the first time and my sailboat made it to shore in one piece."

"Except that the second time, it sank."

"But it was the best the _first_ time."

"Yes, and it took four hours. What use is a sailing boat when we're going to be running away from a bunch of bloodthirsty warriors?"

"Well, we probably won't be running away from them, they'll sink," said Richard. "Have you seen their car?"

The Vikings had, of course, chosen the largest, shiniest car they could find.

"Is that a Hummer?" Jeremy snorted. "You're right, they're going to drown, and I will have absolutely no sympathy."

"There is a downside to them sinking, though." James pointed at the Vikings who were enthusiastically swinging their axes at every tree in sight. "They're just going to go back, build an actual boat and then come and murder us."

"Do you know what?" said Richard. "I know what car we need to use."

"We're not using your bloody campervan," said James, immediately.

Richard crossed his arms defensively, but even he couldn't defend his amphibious campervan. "No, we’re not."

"Well come on, what is it then?" Jeremy demanded. "We'd better get on with it if we want to be ready before these chaps get bored."

"What's the one car that we've _proven_ is indestructable by fire, water, or running into heavy objects like Vikings?"

James sighed. "The Toyota Hilux."

"The Toyota Hilux!" Jeremy said, triumphantly. "The vehicle we used for both of my _successful_ amphibious boating trips, therefore we have to use _my_ outboard motor idea, which we should have done in the first place because obviously I'm right. Let's cue the music!"

They were briefly delayed from cueing the building stuff music by a loud thunk as a Viking fell out of a tree, followed by the branch he'd been chopping, which fell on top of him.

"You know what I love about people from the past?" said Jeremy. "Absolutely no concept of health and safety."

 

They reconvened several hours later, a short distance from the beach - the Top Gear crew with a Hilux, an outboard motor and a dog, and the Vikings with a Viking warship built around their Hummer.

"Right, are we ready to race?" Jeremy shouted, from the cabin of the Hilux.

"Indeed we are!" the Viking leader shouted back from the seat of the Hummer, which was unfortunately concealed by the rather high wooden hull the Vikings had decided to build. "We look forward to driving to the see and crushing you Englishmen once again!"

"Hooray!" the others cheered.

"I don't know about all this crushing," James muttered, from the back of the Hilux where he was sitting with Richard and the dog.

"I told you, Tee Gee's going to take care of us," Richard beamed, ruffling the dog's ears.

James looked at the dog, which had become suddenly become fascinated with his shoes. "You are hopeless."

Top Gear Dog just licked his hand.

"I'd rather go easy on the crushing," Jeremy shouted back to the Vikings. "Let's just drive to the beach, into the water, and whoever gets around that little island and back to shore the fastest, wins. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" The Vikings roared in unison.

"Alright then, ready? Go!"

Jeremy put his foot down and the Toyota roared towards the beach at speeds that compelled James to mild swearing. The engine spluttered alarmingly when they hit the sand, and Richard and James both pleaded with him to slow down at least a _bit_ , but before long they'd hit the water. As soon as they were floating, Richard switched on the outboard motor while James leaned around the back of the cabin to help Jeremy clamber out the window.

"How are the Vikings doing?"

"Interestingly," Richard replied.

"What sort of interesting?"

"Well... see for yourself."

Jeremy clambered into the back tray and gazed back at the beach. "I know they built their hull so that they couldn't see out the windscreen," he said, at last, "But I wouldn't have thought they'd have so much trouble going in a straight line."*

The Toyota was travelling rather slowly, as their amphibious cars always did in water or on land, but compared to past trips it seemed to take a remarkably quick time to get to the halfway point and start to circle around the rocky outcrop that Jeremy had rather generously referred to as an 'island'.

"This is starting to worry me," Jeremy said, frowning.

Richard looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Because it's all going too _well_ ," he sighed. "Look at us. We've driven to the water, gotten _in_ the water, we're halfway done and nothing's sunk or gone up in smoke yet. We'll ruin our reputations if we get ambitious and _successful_."

At that precise moment, they rounded the island and saw the Viking Hummer-longboat clearly sinking just a few feet out to sea. As they watched, they saw someone topple over the side with an almighty crash.

"What was _that_?"

Jeremy squinted through his binoculars. "I think they just threw their cameraman overboard."

"Ah," said James. "Well, that makes sense, I suppose."

Jeremy put the binoculars down and gave James a _look_. "In what world does it make sense to throw a man and his million pound camera into the sea?"

"Well, they're sinking, so they're trying to lighten the load." James shrugged. "They probably thought he was a slave."

They pondered the similarities between cameramen and Viking slaves in silence as they chugged closer to the waterlogged vehicle.

"Oh look, they're all abandoning ship now," Richard pointed out. "I guess it was all getting a bit too damp in there."

"And heading back up the beach," said James, with great relief. "Do you think they're going to just wander off home?"

"Well that'd be a waste," Jeremy snorted.

"What the bloody hell are you on about?" James snapped back at him. "That's the best thing that could possibly happen. Are you mad?"

"No, think about it," Jeremy gestured wildly as he explained. "Look, for the first time ever, we've built an amphibious vehicle that drives on the road, drives on the beach, drives in the water, doesn't sink, and we beat the pants off a bunch of bloodthirsty Vikings too. What's the _point_ of all that if they run off before we can gloat?"

"I don't know if you chaps are interested," said Richard, in a strained voice, "But they seem to have dragged their longboat back to the beach and set it on fire."

Jeremy just rolled his eyes. "I'm very happy for you to have a nice fire to look at, Hamster, but James and I are having a very important stupid argument, and..."

"Yes, but they've got their arrows and things out too," Richard pointed. "I think they're going to attack us."

"Oh," Jeremy said, looking at them. "We probably shouldn't go back to shore and claim victory then. Do you think we should turn it around?"

Right then, a flaming arrow flew through the air, smashed through the Toyota's windscreen and started smouldering in the front seat.

"Ah," said Jeremy. "Probably a bit late for that, then."

They leapt over the side of the flaming Toyota, Richard coaxing the dog into jumping in with them, and started paddling towards the group of angry, axe-wielding Vikings.

"Stop!" Richard shouted, when they were almost at the shore. "Maybe we should just stay here and see if they go away."

"Or we could stay here until we freeze, or drown, or they come in after us," Jeremy added, helpfully. "Come on, maybe they won't hurt us."

Naturally, at this precise moment, the Vikings decided to charge down the beach. But as the three Top Gear presenters flailed in the water, trying to turn around and swim away, Top Gear Dog barked and started swimming even more furiously towards them.

"Tee Gee, stop it! Heel!" Richard shouted, but Top Gear Dog wasn't having any of it. She paddled to shore and galloped up the beach towards the Vikings, barking furiously. And to the utter surprise of everyone involved, they ran away. As the Top Gear crew watched in awe, their mascot herded the vicious Vikings back up the beach, away from their boat and into the time machine. In no time at all they were whisked back to their own time where they could be loot English monasteries at a much safer distance from modern-day Dunsfold.

 

"So," said Jeremy, when they all stood on the beach, dripping wet and freezing, while Top Gear Dog ran about wildly, evading any attempt at capture. "Aside from the fact that it was set on fire by Vikings, who aren't very good at all at making amphibious cars, this challenge was actually..."

"Successful," James finished. "I know. Unbelievable."

"They'll have to cancel us now. We can't go about being ambitious and _not_ rubbish. What sort of a show would that be?"

"Although..." James nodded towards Richard, who kept glancing distractedly over his shoulder. "We may have lost Richard's dog."

"So there you have it," said Jeremy, to the camera. "We completed a challenge successfully, without getting murdered by Vikings, and Top Gear Dog wasn't just useful for the first time ever - she actually saved our lives. And on that bombshell - goodnight!"

 

 **Bonus Epilogue**

Richard managed to hold himself together for a good fifteen seconds after the cameras stopped rolling - just to be on the safe side - before he dragged his co-stars off to a barely-secluded spot in the bushes and promptly stuck his tongue in Jeremy's mouth.

" _Hammond_ ," James hissed, "Do we have to do this right now?"

Jeremy pushed Richard's mouth away from his own so he could speak, and Richard immediately started mouthing Jeremy's neck instead. "Come on, James, you know what he's like. One good fire and he can't help himself. And he just had to watch two."

"I would have thought there were more important things to worry about just now," said James. Though his gaze was fixed on Jeremy's hands as they undid Richard's belt, rather than the things that were supposedly more important."

"Well, you can go and chase after Top Gear Dog if you want," Jeremy said, matter-of-factly, as he finally got his hand down Richard's pants and Richard let out a moan. "I'm not going to complain. But if you wanted to give us a hand, you're most welcome."

"Oh, fine," James grumbled, and stepped forward until he was pressed against Richard's back, sliding a hand down alongside Jeremy's. "But I expect us to have another go at this tonight when we can actually take our time and not worry about getting caught."

"Twice in one day?" Jeremy grinned. "Oh, however will I cope?"


End file.
